Popcorn Brigade
by King Kiashi
Summary: [Movie Theatre AU][Kyouhomu][No Magic] Homura hates her job at the theatre. She's particularly unenthusiastic when her boss puts her in charge of the new employee, Sakura Kyouko. Now she's stuck working right alongside this insufferable girl for an indefinite period of time. All she knows is that she's a crazy enigma, and unraveling her will be no easy task. Or getting along.
1. This Chick is Absolutely Batshit Crazy

**Chapter 1:** This Chick is Absolutely Batshit Crazy

She's disgruntledly wiping popcorn oil off of her hands with a grungy towel in the break room after a long, arduous shift consisting of dealing with imbeciles and exploding popcorn machines when her boss enters the room. She can tell it's him just by his footsteps — those shiny boots he wears clack loudly on the tiled floor in an irritating way that makes her clutch the towel harder. She's come to give the sound a negative connotation since she usually hears it when he's about to rope her into something convoluted like cleaning the bathrooms or, god forbid working the popcorn machines, to name a few of the irritations she's frequently subjected to. Homura keeps her eyes glued to her greasy hands as the footsteps draw closer — she swears all the towel did was move the grease around. A second set of footsteps follow, much to her disdain — their owner sounded rather heavy-footed from the way they clunked on the floor. Great, a brute.

"Akemi-san," her boss intones, the footsteps coming to a halt. She has to suppress a deep, earth-loathing sigh — what business was so important to bother her on break anyways? However, she understands the importance of staying within her manager's good graces, and thus morphs her face into an impassive expression as she turns around.

"Yes?" she replies evenly, keeping her tone in check. She sets the towel back on the metal rack mounted to the wall, acknowledging that the popcorn grease is most likely destined to remain imprinted upon her hands for a while longer until she can make it to a nearby sink.

The sight before her has her heart sinking. Standing next to her boss is a teenage girl looking about her age with fiery red hair tied back into some god-awful mess of a ponytail. The girl looks rough and fierce, flashing her a wicked fanged grin when their eyes have the misfortune of meeting. She finds herself frowning despite her efforts to remain pleasant, but the girl's grin doesn't abate — rather, it seems to _grow. _Those vermillion eyes bear into hers with a confidence that she finds grating. And, not only that, but she's wearing a _theatre uniform_, the same as hers. Black pants, black vest, name tag, and a long-sleeved button-up shirt — except hers was in red and Homura's in purple. But there was no mistaking it: she was an employee. Shit.

Her boss smiles awkwardly, sensing the ill atmosphere. He reaches behind his neck to scratch at his short brown hair, letting out a small laugh.

"Ah, I would like to introduce you to a new employee here. Her name is Sakura Kyouko. I'm assigning you to be her mentor at the job, okay? I think with your skillset, you're the most qualified for helping her," he explains. It takes a significant amount of willpower not to sag her shoulders and deepen her frown at this appalling news. She isn't the friendliest or the most accommodating employee at the theatre in the least, nor would she consider herself the most competent at all facets of the job — particularly those _goddamn_ _popcorn machines. _She shudders at the memory of the buttery explosion, the movement drawing a frown from her boss. Shit. She immediately straightens up and nods her head, plastering a smile upon her face that makes her cheeks ache from its forcefulness.

"Of course. I would be happy to be of assistance," she replies, voice strained with the effort of maintaining a pleasant tone. However, her shabby act somehow miraculously convinces her dimwit boss that she's even the slightest bit enthused about this proposition, and he claps an arm around Kyouko's shoulders, who flinches uncomfortably at the sudden contact.

"Fantastic! I'll leave her to you, then, Akemi-san," he replies jubilantly, and pushes her forward in Homura's direction. With that he turns around and makes his exit, each clack of his annoying boots on the tiled floor feeling like each beat of a hammer nailing her coffin shut. The door closes behind him with an audible _thunk_, sealing her fate. The room was then cast into silence, with her and this Kyouko girl the sole occupants. They stare at each other for a few moments, Homura's gaze awkward and unknowing of what to say while the other girl simply maintains that stupid grin of hers. It was like she was _trying _to make her uncomfortable or something. She shifts her weight from foot to foot, her frown deepening.

"Uh—" she blurts out, speaking without even knowing what she's going to say, but thankfully the other girl chooses that moment to finally say something, cutting her off.

"So, you're Akemi, huh?" she inquires, folding her arms over her chest. It then occurs to Homura that this is the first time she's heard the red-headed disaster's voice — callous, rough, and aggravatingly casual just like her appearance, but higher and more feminine in pitch than Homura had expected. She nods her head in reply to the question.

"Akemi Homura," she supplies. And that's the extent of all she supplies, running out of words. She really isn't much of a talker. Which is frustrating, since apparently she's supposed to take the reins and teach this girl, but what exactly does that entail? What should she say? Homura sticks her greasy popcorn-tainted hands in her work pants' pockets, her arms going stiff. Kyouko just nods her head, and that dastardly grin returns.

"Alright, well, you gonna show me 'round or what?" she asks next, and Homura's actually glad she does, since now she has some sort of direction to latch onto with this. Showing this rookie around the place. It sounds easy enough.

"Of course," she replies. "Well, this room we're standing in is the break room—"

"Obviously," Kyouko cuts in, making Homura's eye twitch and her train of thought derail. Goddamnit.

"Well, yes, but…. anyways, it's kind of dumpy," she admits, which makes the other girl laugh. She points to a small refrigerator on the other side of the room. "There's a fridge over there for when you get hungry, though the food's kind of mediocre—"

"Did you just call food mediocre?" Kyouko interrupts her _again_, sounding incredulous. Homura jumps a bit, mouth flapping uselessly for a few moments as her sentence is ground to a halt once more. She lowers her arm and levels the girl with a glare, but her new coworker meets her gaze head-on without a single flinch, stepping closer. Homura steps back.

"That's not what I said," she grumbles in reply. "I mean it's usually stale and doesn't taste all that great because it sits there for a long time since everyone brings their lunch usually. I meant that in comparison to the concession stand's stuff it's mediocre."

"Or maybe you're just picky. Why don't I taste test it, he?" the girl replies. Homura blinks. Sassy, too? Fuck. She can feel her soul being slowly destroyed already. Kyouko turns and begins marching over to the aforementioned refrigerator, fully intending on carrying out her proposition, but Homura reaches out and grabs her arm in an attempt to restrain her.

"There isn't any time for that; I'm supposed to be training you right now. You can 'taste test' the moldy onions lat—oof!" Suddenly she's on the floor, her vision bestowing upon her the sight of the ceiling and a rather angry-looking young woman towering over her.

"Don't fucking touch me," Kyouko snarls, her vermillion eyes blazing. Homura just blinks in confusion, her spine aching and her skull feeling like it just got ran over by a truck from its hard impact on the floor. That was… a bit of a gross overreaction there. Homura had suspected it when she'd first seen her a few minutes ago, but now she's positive: this girl is absolutely batshit crazy. Perfect. Just perfect. Of course she gets stuck with such a person. Goddamnit, she just wants to enjoy her short break _away _from all the imbeciles she has to constantly put up with every day.

"Uh, okay." Somehow, she finds words to reply to this bizarre turn of events. "Help yourself, I guess?" Apparently she's not in any sort of position to stop her from feasting upon moldy onions or whatever the hell is in that gas chamber of Satan. Perhaps the girl is just hungry, but really, wouldn't she have brought her lunch in that case?

She's interrupted from her minute musings when Kyouko simply huffs in reply to her grant of permission and marches on over to the fridge unabated this time. Homura's gaze remains fixated to the ceiling as she hears the heavy _thud, thud, thud_ of Kyouko's boots and the sound of the refrigerator door being thrown open.

"I can't believe you people would waste food like this," she grumbles under her breath, just loud enough for Homura to hear. She blinks in confusion at those words — why in the world did she care so much?

"Are you going to get your lazy ass off the floor anytime soon?" Kyouko asks loudly, and Homura turns her head to see her sporting a loaf of bread in her hand that's somehow already half-eaten. And she was quite certain that it hadn't been touched yet by anyone. This girl truly was truly bizarre. And according to her boss, she has to work with her frown now on? Just great.

"Did you hear me?" Suddenly strong hands are grabbing her right arm, and she finds herself being swiftly yanked up from the floor. Her legs struggle to find purchase on the smooth floor for a few moments before she manages to get herself in a standing position. The redhead immediately lets go once Homura regains stability, and hastily takes a few steps back from her to eliminate their close proximity.

"Anyways, I think we're done here. Why don't you show me the rest of the place, yea? Let's get out of this stuffy room," Kyouko suggests, already making her way towards the door, still with that loaf of bread in hand.

"Ah, yes. Of course," Homura agrees, moving to catch up with her. Shouldn't she be taking the lead here? The fiery redhead is awfully forward; she's not quite sure how to deal with her. There's bread crumbs all over face, too, but after being randomly body slammed onto the floor, she's not feeling particularly benevolent towards the other girl, at least not enough to inform her of such things. Though she had a feeling Kyouko wouldn't care that much either way. She seems like that sort of person.

Sighing, Homura opens the door to the break room, preparing to unleash the monster upon the building. She didn't even get to finish her break.

* * *

><p>Homura shows Kyouko around the movie theatre — all the showing rooms, where the bathrooms are, the ticket stand, and other such areas of the place as well as providing commentary on what exactly they're supposed to do there. It's tedious and exhausting, especially with how Kyouko seemed determined to interrupt her and get under her skin, but somehow she miraculously manages to do it. Though, she's not exactly sure just how much of it Kyouko paid attention to, but she honestly couldn't care less whether she got any of it. She just wants to get this god-awful task over with. However, they still had one place left to explore, and she'd purposely saved it for last because she honestly didn't want to deal with it. But Homura could avoid it no longer, much to her disdain. After two hours, they find themselves in front of the dreaded concession stand, where Homura frequently feels like murdering someone. The theatre is a small, somewhat less modernized one that thankfully doesn't attract notably large crowds of customers. Combine that with it being early in the afternoon, and hardly a person could be seen, leaving the concession stand free to their 'training'.<p>

"Ooh," Kyouko exclaims when they draw near, her hands shoved into the pockets of her black work pants. "This part actually looks exciting."

"It's more so the spawn of Satan, but if you mean 'exciting' as in 'stressful, anxiety-inducing, and rigorous,' then yes, I suppose it is," Homura replies blandly. She opens the gate to the area behind the counter and leads them inside.

"Jeez, what's got your panties in a wad about it? It's just fixing food, not rocket science." Kyouko's eyes hungrily rove over the shelves of candy and chips, the microwave, the toaster oven, and the several popcorn machines that line the wall, as well as the beverage machines and other devices meant to cater to the customers' dietary needs. Homura immediately shakes her head at her, and gestures towards the machines.

"The machines frequently malfunction, and may or may not catch fire or explode during said malfunctions." She shakes her head, again shuddering at the memory of the morning's popcorn disaster. So much butter. Just so much butter. Everywhere. She glares at the felonious machine in particular that had misfired. Kyouko seems taken aback by her admission of the machines' tendency for errant misadventures for a moment, but she simply folds her arms across her chest and leans back against the counter, raising her eyebrow at Homura.

"Or, maybe you just suck ass at cooking?" she suggests cheekily, grinning when she sees the other girl's eye twitch and flash her a death glare. Homura huffs and turns away.

"You'll see. Everything is so obsolete it's appalling. I'm just warning you that the machinery is heavily unreliable. Especially that toaster oven over there—" she nods towards the offending piece of technology, "—it's quite evil." Kyouko bursts out laughing at that, and Homura grits her teeth at the sound. She doesn't believe her. Of course she doesn't believe her.

"Psht. I'm pretty sure you're either just exaggerating or you've got some curse upon your shoulders. It can't be that bad. The only thing I can see that would suck ass would be being surrounded by all this delicious food and not being able to eat any of it," Kyouko replies, waving a hand at the shelves of delectable objects. Homura shakes her head.

"Actually, we can eat the excess popcorn. But you grow quite sick of it after a while. Especially when you constantly smell like popcorn." Homura wrinkles her nose and leans against the counter next to the other girl. She immediately stiffens when Kyouko suddenly invades her personal space then, her face coming dangerously close to Homura's neck and inhaling deeply. _What the fuc—_

"Jeez, you really do reek of popcorn!" Kyouko exclaims, quickly pulling back once she had finished investigating the aroma. Homura just stands there, blinking, a blush setting into her face for some strange convoluted reason she couldn't even begin to fathom. She isn't sure whether she wants to slap the shit out of Kyouko or melt into the floor and disappear. Or both.

"Don't _do_ that," she hisses, her voice cracking embarrassedly, making her blush grow deeper. Her neck still tingles from where Kyouko's nose had brushed against it. Seriously, who sniffs other people's necks? Infuriatingly enough, the redhead _starts laughing,_ and Homura has to exert all of her willpower to not bury her face in her hands right then. What an insufferable idiot she's stuck with.

"Jeez, isn't that blush on your face just the cutest thing?" Kyouko teased, even having the audacity to outright _point _at her face. Homura turns and stares at her, face scarlet. _Oh my god._ She finds herself having to suppress the desire to murder this caricature of a human being right now, her greasy hands tightening into shaky fists. Kyouko's grin merely widens excitedly when she notices the sense of wrath radiating off of Homura's being, and quickly twirls away playfully before Homura can even have any sort of chance of acting upon her fuming mortification.

"Anyways," she begins, changing the subject as she pulls out a box of Pocky from her pocket and inserts one of the sticks in her mouth, "is there anything else around here I need to know about?" Homura sighs, relieved that the focus of conversation has shifted away from her onto something else. She pushes herself off the counter and makes her way over to a door set on the wall parallel to the counter.

"Well, there's the storage room here for when we need to restock or fish out stuff that's not on the shelves," Homura explains as she pulls the door open.

"Ah, so not as exciting, then," Kyouko comments, following her into the room.

"No, not really." Homura shrugs her shoulders. "It's just full of stuff. And food." She gestures to the shelves of said objects that took up the space of the room. The room is sizable, with plenty of room for all the theatre's supplies, though it has the misfortune of—

"Oh, God, it reeks of popcorn in here worse than you do," Kyouko bellows, making exaggerated gagging sounds. "I mean, I love popcorn and all, but Jesus it's like this place was hit up by a walking giant tub of butter." For the first time since they'd met, Homura actually finds herself laughing at something the redhead said. She tries to hide her chuckle with her hand, but Kyouko can still hear the small bit that slips out, as well as the shake of her shoulders. A big smile stretches across the taller girl's lips, though it's different from the smiles she'd given Homura up to this point — this one holds none of the teasing feistiness of the others, but rather, it's a genuine smile, like as if she's truly pleased to have garnered some amusement from the black-haired girl. Somehow, they miraculously share a mutual smile with one another.

Unfortunately — actually she should be saying 'fortunately' but strangely enough can't bring herself to do so — their boss chooses that moment to appear in the doorway, looking relieved.

"There you two are!" he exclaims, stepping into the room. "I've been looking for you both. Are you two through? Has Akemi-san shown you everything, Sakura-san?" Kyouko turns to face the man, her expression shifting to a more guarded one — a change leaves Homura blinking when she notices it.

"Ah, yes sir, she has. I'm sure all the other stuff comes with experience, but I think I have a good idea of what to do now," she replies. Their boss nods, looking pleased.

"Good, good! Akemi-san, I'll be expecting you to look after her, okay? Make sure she knows what she's doing and that she's handling things well, alright?" Their boss says, flashing the two a thumbs-up. Homura blinks. So it isn't a one-time thing. No, she has to look after the other girl for an indefinite period of time, actually. She casts a sideways glance at the fiery redhead, who grins cheekily at her, and has to suppress a sigh. _This girl is going to be a handful, _she thinks.

"Of course, sir. I'll make sure of it," she replies pleasantly, forcing herself to smile. He claps his hands together.

"Thank you, Akemi-san. Now, both of your shifts are about over, so you ought to start packing up to head home. Good work today." He then turns and makes his exit, leaving Kyouko and Homura alone once more in a dumpy room. They stare at each other for a moment, before Kyouko's grin turns mischievous. She snaps her Pocky stick in half.

"Please be gentle with me, Popcorn-senpai~!" she teases, and Homura's face automatically connects with the palm of her hand.

"Please, never say those words again," she grounds out of clenched teeth. Kyouko just laughs heartily in response.

* * *

><p><strong><span>AN:** Hello everyone! I'm new to this section. Well, not really; I've been a devoted lurker/devourer of the fanfics here since the summer of 2013, but you know, just never showed my face haha. There's never enough Kyouhomu fanfics, so allow me to impart this AU upon thee! Updates might potentially be a tad sporadic. But yea, it's a multi-chapter one alright. Might get silly, might get a bit angsty; it's probably going to be a mixed bag of fun. And I wouldn't consider myself intimately-versed in the ways of movie theatres so you can take this exaggerated, weird portrayal with a grain of salt. I try anyways! But this is being taken from a universe full of edgy angsty magical lesbians, so you know. ^^ Enjoy the ride! Also, sidenote: I did draw the cover art for this story, so that's kind of how I picture them in this story if you want a more specific visual reference.


	2. The Harrowing Garbage Adventures

**Chapter 2**: The Harrowing Garbage Adventures

It's 9 AM, and Homura's still wondering what insane person would be up at this hellhole of a theatre at such a god forsaken time of day, but then she remembers that, oh right, it's her. For reasons she would never understand. And where in the blazes is Kyouko? She knows they have the same shifts today, so there's really no excuse for her to be an hour late. Not that she's particularly keen on seeing her or anything, but her stupid boss put her in charge of that rat, and if she wants to keep her job (which she really doesn't but knows she has to) then she had better ensure the redhead's doing hers. Which she isn't, by not being here. And that's not good. She just really hopes her boss doesn't notice.

At this time of day, the lobby's not particularly occupied with many people save for some pockets of them, but she's still stuck on usher duty. Because somehow, at this time of day, people are still lively enough to throw food around.

She's crouched on the carpeted floor sweeping some stray popcorn into her dustpan when she hears a steady rhythm of fast, heavy footsteps approaching her from behind.

"Hey!" Kyouko gasps, doubling over with her hands on her knees as she pulls up beside Homura. "I'm here!"

"An hour late," Homura grumpily reminds her as she dumps the contents of her dustpan into the trashcan she's been dragging around. "Where the hell were you?"

"Oh, uh… I just overslept, that's all," Kyouko replies as she straightens up, looking very keen on avoiding Homura's gaze and instead staring at the trashcan like it's the most interesting thing in the world. Which it really isn't. With Kyouko stranding up straight now, Homura sees a large bruise covering her right cheek. Her clothes look disheveled as well as her hair — somehow her disaster of hair manages to look even more unkempt than it did yesterday, which Homura finds rather impressive. It's so obvious to her that Kyouko is lying, but she doesn't call her out on it. It's none of her business, anyways. She's just relieved that this lazy piece of shit rookie finally showed up to work so she won't have to worry about her boss giving her a hard time about it. Not that she's even in control of the other girl anyways so she really couldn't be blamed, but she still couldn't help but feel nervous — on occasion he's aggravatingly unreasonable. However, all that was thankfully now irrelevant thanks to her presence.

"Whatever, just try not to do it again if you want to keep your job," Homura grumbles as she pulls out the extra broom and dustpan attached to the sides of the trashcan and thrusts them into Kyouko's hefty hands. "Now come on, you have usher duty today as well." Kyouko stares at the weapons of cleanliness now gripped in her hands like they're foreign objects.

"Oh. Cleaning," she reiterates unnecessarily, to which Homura nods.

"Yes, cleaning. Don't tell me you don't know how to clean." She glares at the redhead, who huffs and puffs out her chest.

"Of course I do! I'm not stupid, ya know. Let's do this!" She wields the broom like a spear and thrusts it in the direction of one of the hallways branching off from the lobby. "Where to?" Homura glances at the big clock mounted atop the crest of the archway in front of the entrance.

"Auditorium Three just let out I think, so we'll need to go clean up there for the next show," she replies, pointing to the hall branching out of the wall opposite to the one Kyouko had been pointing to. The redhead turns around and points the broom in the same direction Homura is like as if she hadn't just been pointing the wrong way. Homura just stares at her like she's crazy. And she's pretty sure she's not very far off the mark, either. She isn't sure whether to be exasperated or amused by the redhead's antics. Or both. She shakes her head. _Enough of that._

"Okay! This'll probably be easy," Kyouko exclaims confidently, and heads off in the direction Homura had pointed out. The black-haired girl stares at her back for a moment before sighing heavily and following after her, loathingly dragging the trashcan behind her. God, it really is too early for this.

By the time they arrive at the designated auditorium all the people have already cleared out, much to Homura's relief — she's really not fond of crowds. Or people in general. Again, she wonders why the hell she even works here. Kyouko interrupts her internal grumbles by pushing open one of the big double doors leading into what will most likely be a wretched hellhole of garbage. She steps back to the wall and holds the door open for Homura, who drags herself and the trashcan through the offered entryway. She gives a small nod to Kyouko as the other girl lets the door shut behind her.

"Thanks," she mumbles. She's honestly surprised the wild girl has some shred of politeness in her.

"No problem." Kyouko smiles, and walks ahead of her, now brandishing her broom like a sword and the dustpan a shield. "Time to slay some popcorn demons."

"It's really not that exciting," Homura replies blandly as they walk further into the auditorium. The sight that reveals itself to her eyes then has her shoulders and overall posture sagging significantly.

"Oh, wow, it looks like a fucking warzone," Kyouko remarks in a horrified sort of awe, her vermillion eyes roving across the expanses of various foods, popcorn, and containers strewn across all the seats and floors. Homura just releases a deep, earth-loathing sigh in reply and drags the trashcan up to closest row of seats.

"I'm quite certain this auditorium just showed some children's movie. I saw a bunch of children heading down this wing earlier when I came in for work," she elaborates miserably as she futilely sweeps at a spilled container of popcorn on the floor.

"Jeez, destructive little demons, aren't they?" Kyouko watches her sweep the discarded food for a few moments. "Where do we even begin?"

"It doesn't matter; just pick somewhere. It's usually not this bad," Homura replies curtly as she bends down to sweep the trash into the dustpan. The other girl stands there for a moment, eyes roving over the auditorium once more before she picks the row right after Homura's to start on. The black-haired girl has to hold in a sigh at this motion — she was hoping the other girl would move somewhere further away, but apparently she's determined to stick to Homura like glue. She's really not in the mood for conversation, either.

"You'd think the kids' parents would try to stop them at least," the redhead comments as she starts to sweep the floor. Homura casts a sideways glance at her for a moment before picking up a discarded bottle of Coke and dropping it into the trashcan. Of course she would start talking.

"With the amount of rude customers I've faced, it honestly doesn't surprise me," she responds droopily. Oddly enough, there's a beat of silence between them. Homura turns her head a bit to look at Kyouko, who's staring at the wall, the broom now still in her hands.

"Yea," she replies after a moment, touching the bruise on her cheek. "People are fucking assholes, let's put it at that." Homura blinks. What had that just been? She shakes her head, too exhausted to bother dwelling on the redhead's apparent personal problems.

"Something we can both agree on," she replies tiredly. Kyouko just nods, picking back up her cleaning motions.

Surprisingly enough, they get through a good number of rows in relative silence after that — broken up only by a few small comments and grumbles of 'eugh gross what the hell is that?' However, exhaustion soon sets deep in Homura's bones, and even Kyouko looks drained about halfway through. Though, Homura has a feeling it's not just the cleaning that has the redhead looking so world-weary.

Homura steals a glance over to the redhead's figure standing a few rows over from her towards the back at that thought, only to see a mixture of confusion and disgust on her face as she stands staring down at something on the floor that Homura can't see. Curious, she abandons her row to make her way over to her companion.

"What's wrong?" she asks as she sidles up behind her, leaning to the left slightly to look around the other girl's taller form. Kyouko twists her head to look down at her, and shrugs helplessly.

"I don't even know what to think of this," she comments, gesturing to the articles of clothing laying strewn about the seats and the floor. "Like, what, were they just completely plowing each other over in the back of this crowded theatre? And they left their clothes, at that? What the hell?" Homura's eyes widen at that, a blush immediately dusting her usually pale cheeks.

"O-Oh my," she stutters out, straightening up. "Let's… let's not dwell on that, okay?" Kyouko looks just as uncomfortable as her at the thought, and nods quickly in agreement.

"What… what should we even do about this?" she asks. "Fuck, there'd better not be any goddamn STDs laying around here." Homura slaps her arm right as she says that, making the redhead flinch and whirl around on her.

"Ow! What was that for?" she grumbles, rubbing her offended arm. "I said not to touch me, you dolt!" The black-haired girl huffs and turns away, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I said not to dwell on it," she shoots back, her blush growing. Shaking her head, she makes her way over to the nearby trashcan they'd been dragging around in their god forsaken cleaning adventures — or torture sentence, she should say — to retrieve a pair of rubber gloves. She slips them on her slender hands and returns to Kyouko's side, pushing past her to deal with the aftermath of one of Satan's grand summonings. Kyouko cracks a smirk, taking a step back so as not to be in the other girl's way.

"Really? You're popping out the gloves? Germ freak," she snorts, crossing her arms. Homura glares at her menacingly.

"You're the one who was so concerned about germs!" she retorts, refusing to admit that maybe the other girl had made her a bit paranoid. Kyouko's smirk turns into a frown and she exhales an audible gust of air out of her nose, turning away with a haughty 'hmph,' in an effort to not admit the fact that Homura's completely right, even though it's completely obvious that Kyouko's been bested. A triumphant smirk twitches at the corners of Homura's lips for a brief moment before instantly falling back into a disgruntled frown as she turns back towards her task.

"I'll take these to the Lost and Found box; you finish cleaning up here," she commands, already performing the grotesque, harrowing task of lifting the abandoned clothing from its offending position in the auditorium. Kyouko crinkles her nose in disgust when Homura lifts up a pair of khaki pants for them to behold.

"Aren't you brave," she comments, shaking her head as Homura continues to gingerly lift the felonious articles of clothing from their wayward positions on the theatre chairs and floor with an impassive expression on her face. She sighs heavily, and flashes Homura a weary salute as she grasps the handle of the broom leaning against the seats. "Leave it to me." Homura nods at that, and then straightens up with all the clothes gathered in her arms. She turns to begin her journey to the box to dispose of these disgusting pieces of fabric that smell like some abhorrent mix of popcorn and other substances she really doesn't want to identify. She shudders at that last thought, and vows to vigorously dispel any of the visceral substances that may have dared to tread upon the vicinity of her arms as soon as she's rid herself of her fabric burden.

"Meet me in the break room when you're done so we can figure out our next position," she adds to her previous order, voice strained as she tries to _not _think about what she's holding. She continues her walk to the door once she hears a mumbled 'okay' from Kyouko. Their theatre is rather understaffed unfortunately, so often they perform multiple positions throughout the day to make up for it. It would explain how the wild, unkempt redhead had managed to get a job here. And her, as much as she didn't like to admit it. Her boss won't even admit it either; he continues to praise her even though she often glares at the customers and radiates some sort of deathly aura. Customer service _really _isn't her thing.

* * *

><p>Homura's trudging down the hall with her eyes closed and her arms feeling a freezing numbness and rawness when she knocks straight into someone, her chin colliding right into the other person's collarbone. She hears a gruff 'oof' and the sound of boots stumbling back trying to find purchase on the floor. Her weary eyes immediately fly open.<p>

"Ah, I'm sorr— _oh it's you."_ The apologetic expression she had assumed immediately falls into a disgruntled frown once she realizes who she bumped into. Kyouko straightens up, grumpily rubbing her collarbone like she's trying to wipe off the stain of Homura's touch.

"Hey, what's with that?" she gripes, glaring at the shorter girl with a frown etched into her features. Homura just shakes her head and waves her off, which causes the older girl to huff and cross her arms across her chest.

"Anyways, I expected you to already be in the break room. What took you so long?" she asks.

"I had to purge my arms of that disgusting vitriol," she explains, holding her arms up to emphasize her point. She'd had her sleeves rolled up all day for cleaning duty, so of course her skin needed to be cleansed of any impurities the revolting discarded clothes may have contained. Kyouko studies her proffered arms for a moment before sighing and pushing past her.

"I hope you didn't use up _all _the soap," she sneers as she continues on her way to the place they were supposed to meet up at. Homura rolls her eyes and turns around to follow after her, only now stupidly realizing she'd walked past the break room in her miserable trudge down the hall.

They arrive at the designated room shortly enough, and Homura's looking forward to the chance to sit down for a moment — she didn't think exhaustion could set so _deep_ in someone's bones as it was in hers. It feels like her very soul has several heavy weights clinging to it, sapping her energy like a gaggle of bloodthirsty leeches. She pulls the door to the break room open, only for her heart to sag at the realization it's _occupied._ It's not that there aren't any more chairs for her to sit down in — there's still two more at the small table inhabiting a portion of the right side of the room — but that her introvert reserves are already despairingly low, so more people to deal with isn't a very welcome sight.

A pink-haired girl stands up from her seat at the table upon her entrance into the room.

"Homura-chan!" she exclaims, waving at the black-haired girl happily. Homura weakly waves at her in return as she makes her way over to them, with Kyouko reluctantly trailing behind her. "Hi!"

"Good morning, Madoka," she wearily returns the greeting, drowsily plunking down into one of the remaining hard metal chairs. She'll never understand how the diminutive girl can be so damn _chipper_ at this god forsaken time of day in this hellhole of a theatre. She nods to the other girl seated next to Madoka across the table, who looks just about as beat as her. "Sayaka." The blue-haired girl returns the nod.

"Hey, Homura." Right after the words leave her lips, the girl's eyes drift up past Homura to the redhead standing behind her. "Is this the newbie?"

"Yes," Homura affirms, propping her chin up on her hand as she finds difficulty in keeping her head up. Kyouko splutters for a moment before outright glowering at the girl seated across the table, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

"Newbie! Who're you callin' a newbie, blueberry?" she shoots back. The other girl's eyes widen for a moment in surprise before narrowing menacingly.

"Jeez, somebody has an attitude!" she retorts indignantly. Madoka winces at the harshness of her companion's tone and places a placating hand on her shoulder.

"S-Sayaka-chan, calm down," she mumbles. Sayaka huffs and leans back in her chair, mouth clamped shut in a tight line. Kyouko puffs air out of her nose. Madoka looks uncomfortable at the sudden shift in mood between the two, and raises her other hand up apologetically.

"Uh, sorry about that; she's kind of grumpy at this time of day," Madoka apologizes.

"Aren't we all?" Homura interjects loathingly, too exhausted to even bother contributing much to the situation. Kyouko just gives the girls seated across the table a lopsided frown before finally seating herself in the remaining unoccupied chair next to Homura.

"It's fine," she replies, waving the situation off, but she still shoots a glare at Sayaka for a fraction of a second before returning a more neutral gaze to Madoka. "Name's Sakura Kyouko. Nice to meet you." Madoka flashes Kyouko an angelically pure smile.

"I'm Kaname Madoka, and this is Miki Sayaka," she replies, gesturing to the short-haired girl seated beside her. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Sakura-san." She extends a hand diagonally across the table to offer the new girl a handshake.

"Just Kyouko's fine," she corrects her casually, accepting the handshake. She gives Madoka's small, dainty hand a firm squeeze with her burlier one. Madoka winces slightly at the force of Kyouko's squeeze, but quickly covers it up with a smile as the other girl releases her and returns her hand back to her own lap. Homura raises an eyebrow at this exchange, but says nothing. The four girls sit there in silence for a few long moments after introductions were accounted for, with Madoka and Kyouko looking awkward at the lack of conversation while Sayaka and Homura seem to be about half-way asleep already.

"Um—" Madoka finally starts up, but is cut off by Sayaka choosing that exact moment to interject some conversation into the silence.

"Why do you look like you just crawled out of a dumpster and got the shit beaten out of you? Is that why I didn't see you during the morning shift?" she asks, tiredly glaring at the redhead. Madoka's eyes widen, mortified by what her friend has just said.

"Sayaka—"

"How about you mind your own damn business, huh?" Kyouko shoots back aggressively, leaning forward in her seat to level the other girl with a fierce glare. Sayaka meets her glare steadily with one of her own, unrelenting in the face of the other girl's fiery expression. Madoka cringes.

"G-Guys, let's just calm down now, okay?" She leans forward in her seat trying to catch someone's eye, but they both ignore her and continue their intense glaring contest. Meanwhile, Homura's head has fallen further to simply rest on her bent arm on the table, watching the exchange through half-lidded eyes.

"You don't need to be so defensive; I was just asking a question!" Sayaka growls.

"Well, maybe I really don't want you asking questions? You don't need to be so nosy!"

"I'm not nosy!"

"It sure seems like it to m—"

"ANYWAYS!" Madoka loudly proclaims as she stands up from her chair and leans over the table, startling both girls out of their reverie and _finally _drawing their attention to her. "The manager said that we're supposed to switch positions with you two around this time for the next shift, so we should probably go do that! Which means Kyouko-chan and Homura-chan will be working at the concession stand and Sayaka-chan and I will switch to usher duty. So, we probably shouldn't be wasting any more time sitting here and stuff!" She grabs Sayaka's arm and hauls the girl out of her chair.

"M-Madoka!" Sayaka protests, but Madoka ignores her and practically drags her out of the room.

"It was nice meeting you, Kyouko-chan! I look forward to working with you from now on!" she hastily calls out to Kyouko as she makes her way out the door with Sayaka in tow. Kyouko seems bewildered by the sudden change in situation and can only manage a mumbled 'uh, you too!' before the door slams shut. The break room is cast into silence once more. Kyouko sits back in her seat and stares at the wall for a few moments with her arms crossed, looking like she's trying to process everything that just happened. She casts a glance over to Homura, who just stares at her with foggy, half-lidded eyes that make it apparent that she's not actually looking at her. The redhead cracks an amused smile.

"Homura?" she queries.

"Mmm," the other girl murmurs in reply.

"Are you falling asleep?"

"Probably," Homura mumbles, her cheek sliding off of her arm to hit the table. Kyouko snickers at that, and pushes herself up and out of her seat.

"Well, don't you have to show me how concession duty's done?" she asks, smirking. Homura just sighs heavily in reply, but makes no effort to move from her position.

"C'mon." Kyouko grabs her arm in both hands and hauls her work partner to her feet, the other girl making no movements in protest to the action. Homura leans against the table for a moment, rubbing her bleary eyes with her hands in an effort to awaken herself further before straightening up. There's still a noticeable slouch to her posture though — her whole body seems to droop as if the earth were insistently tugging her down to its dark depths.

"God, do I hate that concession stand," she grumbles under her breath as she trudges over to the door. Kyouko's amused smirk doesn't let up as she follows after the shorter girl. Homura exhales a deep, earth-loathing sigh as she tugs the door open. "Let's just get this over with." She has a feeling their next shift will be positively _awful._

* * *

><p><span><strong>AN:** Aaand Madoka and Sayaka are in! Yay. What a silly chapter, good grief. 'Till next time.


	3. An Awakening of Wrath and Fire

**Chapter 3:** An Awakening of Wrath and Fire

Oddly enough, Homura's the one following behind Kyouko as they make their way to the dreaded concession stand, but honestly, she can't really bring herself to care. She just _really_ wants to sleep. The day isn't even anywhere near over, though. She sighs as the gleaming counter of the concession stand comes into view — damn she's screwed, huh?

Kyouko opens the gate to the area enclosed by the walls of death, entering casually while Homura has to practically drag herself through. She closes the gate behind her out of habit and leans heavily against the counter. Her working partner turns toward her, a stick of Pocky already lodged between her teeth — when in the world had she pulled that out? Homura shakes her head to regain her senses.

"Okay, so what now, sensei?" Kyouko asks, grinning cheekily at her. The black-haired girl sighs heavily, straightening up.

"Don't call me that," Homura grumbles, forcing herself to banish the droop to her facial features in favor of a more neutral expression. It's time to work, as much as she hates it. It's not like she hasn't felt this way before and gotten through it; studying for college finals has a similar effect on her, after all. If not worse. She shudders at the memory. So many coffee cups had littered the floor of her room. Just so many. The other girl raises an eyebrow at her quizzically, seeming to note her seemingly random shudder. Homura internally cringes — she really has to stop doing that so much.

"Well, whatever, that doesn't answer my question," Kyouko huffs. Homura frowns at her, and pushes herself off the counter to take a few steps closer to the taller girl.

"Well, first of all," she forcibly yanks the Pocky stick out of Kyouko's mouth, "you need to get rid of _this._" Kyouko splutters at the sudden action.

"H-Hey!" she snarls, immediately snatching the stick out of Homura's hand with a level of ferocity that has the other girl leaning back in surprise. "Don't _waste_ it, you idiot." Kyouko then proceeds to _swallow the stick whole._ Homura stares at her, her hand that had stolen the now-forever-lost stick still suspended in the air. The insane redhead gazes right back in her eyes. They remain that way for a few painfully long moments, with Kyouko looking increasingly confused.

"What?" Kyouko finally asks. The shorter girl just shakes her head, slowly lowering her hand down back to her side.

"I-I'm not even going to comment on what you just did," Homura replies evenly, turning her back on the _absolutely batshit crazy_ woman she's forever stuck with. Kyouko crosses her arms over her chest, pouting even though Homura can't see her.

"I just rescued that Pocky stick from your evil, wasteful hands, _that's_ what I just did," Kyouko retorts.

"You swallowed it whole," Homura remarks despite herself.

"Yes, I did! Is there a problem, Princess?" Homura can just feel the sheer defensiveness in the redhead's tone. She sighs in defeat — there simply is no reasoning with this girl. And it's probably impossible to make her see the sheer absurdity of her actions.

"Just… just go pop some popcorn, okay?" Homura replies, waving her away with a dismissive hand.

"On it!" Kyouko responds eagerly, seemingly happy at finally having something to do, and Homura sees her salute out of the corner of her eye. She turns her head to see the girl rummaging through the cabinets, presumably to find said popcorn to pop.

"Third drawer down on the left," she instructs tiredly, leaning back against the counter. Wordlessly, the redhead complies with her instructions, fishing several bags of the stuff out of the sizable compartment. She stands up straight and walks over to one of the three popcorn machines stationed against the wall.

"No, no, no," Homura interjects sharply, causing the other girl to pause.

"What?" Kyouko inquires, turning her head.

"Don't use that one; it's evil. The third one down hasn't had any problems yet, so use that one," Homura explains. Kyouko's eyebrows furrow at that.

"If these two are 'evil' as you put it, then why haven't they been replaced?" the redhead asks curiously. "Actually, how are they even still working?"

"Because the boss is a complete ditz and really doesn't pay enough attention to these sort of things." Homura shrugs. "I really don't know what he does all day. It might explain why this theatre doesn't get nearly as much business as the other ones. As for how they're still working, they're not. Hence why you shouldn't use them. Any more questions?" she adds curtly, a dismal frown pulling down the corners of her lips. It's too early for so much talking. Far too early. Kyouko shakes her head in reply, and heads over to the designated 'non-evil' popcorn machine.

"Why do you call it 'evil'? Isn't that kind of a weird way of putting it?" Kyouko asks as she tears the bags open and lifts the hatch of the machine.

"Sayaka started calling the wonky machines that, and it just kind of became a thing." Homura shrugs. "I don't really think much of it. Can you just pop it already?" The redhead turns her head to look at her in confusion as she pours the kernels in the box.

"Sheesh, what's got you so—"

"Look at what you're doing," Homura interrupts her sharply, causing Kyouko to jerk her head back to her hands. She'd misfired and a good number of the kernels had spilled onto the floor.

"Oh, oops," she mumbles, pulling the bag back to prevent anymore wayward kernels from spilling out. "Sorry about that. Can you fetch a broom?" Homura's shoulders sag significantly at the redhead's request, and she sighs heavily, folding her arms across her chest.

"Don't make an even bigger mess," she grumbles wrathfully in reply before pushing herself off the counter and trudging her way to the gate. Once she's past the irritating obstacle, she slogs down the adjoining hall, a frown still etched into her tired features. She turns a corner down another hallway. Broom closet. Where is that blasted broom closet again? She's certain it's down this hall, but her mind's so fuzzy it's hard to think straight. Especially with that aggravating redhead draining away the meagre remnants of her energy with her crazy antics. Did the girl ever get tired? Ever? Why is she so damn _weird?_ Honestly, Homura had thought Sayaka was crazy, but Kyouko just takes the cake. And would probably devour said proverbial cake, too. She shudders to think of what the two would accomplish if they both occupied the same space for too long. They were lucky that Madoka was there when they were in the break room, or else —  
>Suddenly, Homura's face painfully collides with something hard and wooden.<p>

"Ow!" she exclaims, stumbling back from the impact and falling onto the floor. The back of her head knocks against the carpeted surface heavily, and she lays there for a few long moments, the world spinning around her. She blinks several times, and the ceiling that greets her vision finally seems to have calmed down from its drunken partying. She stares at it for a minute, slowly becoming aware of the fact that she's splayed out on the floor like a starfish and that she has a headache that could rival even the most tumultuous of earthquakes. Homura sighs deploringly. The day isn't anywhere near over yet, and she's already three-fourths of the way dead. She's quite sure her job was significantly less strenuous without the redhead around. But, it looks like they're stuck together for God-knows-how-long.

Actually, what in the world had she even knocked into, anyways? Somehow, she'd already forgotten that important tidbit of her current predicament. Homura slowly raises herself up onto her elbows, gritting her teeth in an attempt to ignore the way her head painfully throbs harder at the action. She looks up. Oh. It's the broom closet. Well, at least she had found it. With her skull. Homura sighs, and shakily hauls herself to her feet, though she's hit with another wave of dizziness that has her leaning against the wall to keep her balance intact. How fast had she even been walking to afford such a hard hit to the skull? Or perhaps it wasn't that bad of a hit and a significant portion of her disorientation is actually her sheer sleep deprivation. Who knows? She honestly couldn't care less at the moment. She had a task at hand, after all. Steeling herself, Homura pushes herself off the wall and makes her way to the door, the dizziness having thankfully dissipated somewhat. Homura retrieves a broom and dustpan from the closet, feeling oddly triumphant as she grips the fruits of her grand quest in her slender, pale fingers. It must be the pain she had endured to retrieve such things. She's very thankful the hallway is deserted, for if anyone had borne witness to her clumsy mishap, she'd have surely died of embarrassment right then and there. She turns her head to warily cast her gaze down the hall at that thought, and is relieved to find that she's correct: she is alone. Shoulders drooping, Homura sighs heavily. It's time to return to that dreaded concession stand. Oh, she really doesn't want to go back… but she has to. Hefting the broom over one of her narrow shoulders, Homura makes her way down the hall with a drag in her steps.

* * *

><p>Homura returns to find that Kyouko has somehow managed to get the popcorn machine going, and she can hear the incessant popping even from her place at the entrance to the lobby. Well, that's a relief. She'd been concerned that the redhead would do something drastic, but at least she has some level of competency. The black-haired girl's eyes survey the lobby, surprised to find it oddly empty. Though, it's still relatively early — not even noon yet, so it's not too out of the ordinary, but still, she'd at least anticipated one customer to be in the vicinity. Oh, well. It makes her job significantly easier if she doesn't have to deal with people, so she can't complain. Kyouko twists her head in her direction at the sound of her approaching footsteps, looking rather bored.<p>

"Jeez, what took you so long?" she grumbles as Homura makes her way into the concession stand area. The smaller girl feels a blush creeping its way onto her face at the memory of her head-bash. There's no way she's going to admit that she smacked right into the closet door. She just shakes her head at the redhead, waving her off with a dismissive hand. Kyouko huffs and crosses her arms over her chest with a mumbled 'whatever'. She's standing right next to the busy machine, her weight resting on one leg and another stick of Pocky having found its way between her teeth, despite Homura having made it clear to her to not to be eating those damn sticks while they were on duty. But, there's nobody around except them, and Homura's too tired to bother going through the same Pocky-snatching ordeal again, so she says nothing.

She's about to make her way over to Kyouko's position to deal with the spilled-kernel disaster on the floor when she notices the popping in the machine has slowed down significantly.

"Hey, you're supposed to turn it off now," she warns her work partner. Kyouko's eyebrows furrow at that.

"Why? It's still popping; we'd have less popcorn if I did that," Kyouko replies in confusion. Homura grits her teeth and begins making her way over to the redhead at a quickened pace, preparing to turn the machine off herself. She drops the broom and dustpan to the floor with a clatter that has Kyouko looking at her a little warily.

"It's going to catch on fire if you let it do that!" she answers her sharply, a feeling of dread seeping its way into her bones as she stares at the mass of buttery evil seated within the box. She reaches her hand over to flip the switch, only for Kyouko to grab her wrist and pull her hand back.

"_What_ are you—" Homura begins to snap menacingly, only for Kyouko to interrupt her.

"You're being ridiculous; we shouldn't waste the kernels doing it like how you're saying! You're just being paranoid," the other girl interjects haughtily, putting pressure on Homura's wrist when the other girl starts struggling, Growling, Homura darts her left hand forward, only for Kyouko to grab that one as well. It's at this moment that she notices what temperature Kyouko has set the machine to.

"You're not supposed to put it at five hundred twenty degrees!" she shouts, still struggling vainly against Kyouko's grip, but the girl is significantly stronger than her, apparently. "That's ridiculously hot!"

"Well, how was I supposed to know what temperature to set it to? Besides, it'll pop faster if it's set higher, won't it?" Kyouko's lips are drawn back in an angry snarl, but Homura can see there's a bit of doubt seeping in her eyes. She's about to open her mouth to shoot back what would hopefully be a crushing rebuttal, when their nostrils are hit with a sudden, strong gust of smoke. Kyouko's grip automatically slackens on Homura's wrists when she sees the flames beginning to sprout inside the machine.

"O-Oh shit," she curses under her breath, finally releasing Homura. She just stares at the glowing tendrils of death growing and coalescing together in shock. Panicking, Homura shoves her shoulder.

"T-Turn it off already!" she shouts, though she's already taken it upon herself to start fumbling with the controls. The heat from the machine has her feeling unbearably hot and her eyes aggravatingly watery, and her hands are shaking so bad that she can't even find the switch to turn it off. It's then that she notices that Kyouko hadn't even put the lid back on properly, leaving a hole along the edge that the flames eagerly leap through. The sudden gust of fire has Homura instinctively jumping back. Her eyes glance over to Kyouko, who looks completely petrified by the flames — she's just standing there staring at them with this horrified glint in her eyes that seems indicative of something other than mere fear of being burned. But Homura doesn't have time to dwell on that, she's got to get this situation under control, and fast! With this thought in mind, she forcibly swallows her panic and darts forward to finally flip the switch, just as another bright yellow tendril of chaos shoots out from the roof of the machine. It doesn't stop the flames of course, but at least it'll slow down the rapid growth of the fire.

Homura turns towards Kyouko to yell at her to fetch some water, but the words die in her throat when she sees how Kyouko's still completely frozen, white in the face. Sighing in frustration, she grabs the girl and forcibly tugs her away her away from the machine. The action has Kyouko stumbling to the floor, but Homura just needs her to not be right next to the damn machine, so she leaves her that way. She turns swiftly and leaps over the counter in a rather impressive bound. Once her feet touch the floor, she tears down the hall, heart racing in her chest even faster than her feet. Homura's almost sent flying to the floor when she turns a corner, but she miraculously manages to maintain her balance as she charges down the hall she'd just been down a few minutes prior.

Homura sees Madoka at the end of the hall, right in front of the broom closet. The short girl turns around in surprise at the sound of Homura's' thundering footsteps, eyes widening at the sight. She quickly moves out of the way as the taller girl comes to a skidding halt, almost smashing right into the door again.

"H-Homura-chan?" Madoka intones in alarm. "W-What's goi—"

"Fire!" Homura can only gasp in reply as she tears the broom closet door open and shoots her hand in to grab a sizable bucket from its dark depths. She shoves the bucket in Madoka's hands before grabbing one for herself and flying down the hall again, leaving a bewildered Madoka to hurriedly trail behind her at a much more hesitant pace.

"F-Fire?" she repeats, even though Homura's already too far ahead of her to hear her. "Wh… Oh, not again!" The situation seems to click inside the pinkette's head, and she quickens her pace to catch up with Homura.

After they both dart inside the bathroom to endure the frustratingly slow process of filling the buckets up with water through the sink faucets, Madoka and Homura rush back to the lobby, pace notably slowed in order to prevent all the water from sloshing out. When they arrive upon scene, Kyouko's still sitting on the floor with her back against the wall of the counter, eyes still glazed in some sort of trance. Homura pushes the gate open and hurries into the concession area. To her relief, the fire's still mostly contained inside the machine, though the glass walls are already melting and she knows it won't hold up for much longer. The flickers of fire escaping through the gap on top also somehow haven't reached out to consume the rest of the area, but she most certainly isn't complaining about a stroke of pure luck.

"Madoka, get the lid off!" she shouts as she draws near the machine, bucket at ready. They couldn't douse the flames if the water couldn't reach them, after all. It's a risky move, but they don't really have much of a choice. A cough racks its way out of her lungs when she inhales a god-awful gust of smoke.

"R-Right!" Madoka exclaims, and sets her bucket down. She pulls her shirt up over her mouth and nose, then she grabs at some oven mitts laying on the top of one of the cabinets. Once they're on her hands, she rushes over to grab at the searing hot metal lid. The oven mitts aren't enough to completely block the sheer heat radiating off the metal though, and she hisses in pain as she tosses the lid to the floor. The fire eagerly takes this opportunity to expand upwards, but Homura's not going to have any of that. She swings the bucket forward, chucking water into the inferno of hell. Madoka darts forward for her own bucket, and proceeds to do the same, the stream of water delivering a swift, effective death to the malevolent demons residing within the melted glass chamber of Satan.

They both stare at the steaming remains of the popcorn machine, much of it covered in black soot and badly damaged. Inside the box is a pile of black, charred pieces of popcorn, marred beyond recognition as such. But, the flames themselves have completely vanished from the scene. Homura's shoulders sag in relief, and she can hear Madoka exhale in a similar display of respite.

The sense of relief vanishes, however, when Kyouko begins to stir. The expelling of the fire from her vision seems to have snapped her out of her odd trance, and she blinks several times at the scene before her.

"W-Whoa," she exhales in shock, using the countertop to pull herself up in a standing position. Her skin is as white as a ghost, her hands are trembling, and she has to lean against the counter to keep herself upright, but Homura doesn't have a single ounce of pity for her. Rather, she can feel a fire of her own smoldering in the pit of her stomach — a fire hot enough to have her gripping the handle of the bucket in her hand hard enough to turn her knuckles white. A sharp ache shoots through her jaw from how hard she's gritting her teeth, but she barely notices as her eyes bear down on her stupid, _absolutely completely stupid! _coworker like a pair of white-hot daggers of doom. For once, Kyouko seems to shrink a little under the sheer force of her death glare as their eyes have the absolute _misfortune_ of meeting.

There's so many things Homura wants to do right now — she wants to _scream_ at her; she wants to hurl the bucket right in her idiotic face; she wants to outright _strangle_ the other girl, so much so that she's shuddering from the sheer effort it takes to contain her fury. But if there's one thing she can't contain, it's her need to say _something_ to Kyouko right here, and so she can't help the way her lips pull back in a venomous snarl, or the poisonous vitriol that spills forth from her tongue.

"You're a fucking idiot," Homura hisses coldly at her then, her voice carrying with it a searing blizzard that has Kyouko grimacing like she's been punched in the gut. Madoka looks outright alarmed at the display, and she meekly brings her hands up in an attempt to placate her friend.

"Homura-chan," Madoka utters softly, grasping her shoulder gently in an attempt to soothe her, but Homura roughly shoves her arm away and spins around, the erratic motion sending the pink-haired girl stumbling back a few steps. Homura darkly stalks off without another word, stiff as a board and deathly silent save for the clack of her heavier-than-normal footsteps on the floor as she makes her exit. She drops the bucket to the floor in the midst of her retreat from the scene with a resounding clatter. Her fingers immediately curl inward at the loss of something to grip and simply remain in their arrested position with tendons bulging slightly from sheer tension. It's when she's entering the adjoining hall that Kyouko seems to recover from her reverie, and Homura can simply imagine that she's puffing up indignantly judging by the exclamation that follows.

"You never even told me how to work the goddamn machine!" Kyouko shouts furiously at her back, but there's a sharp undercurrent of defensiveness in her voice that Homura doesn't miss. Still, the mere _audacity_ of the girl to even _attempt_ to place blame on her shoulders has Homura's blood boiling harder than it was before, and she sucks in a piercing breath that leaves her chest aching in her attempt at self-control. She quickens her pace, mouth clamped shut in a tight line so as not to even dignify the redhead's proclamation with any sort of response.

"Hey! Come back here! Are you just going to leave us to clean up this fucking mess?" Kyouko continues lividly in response to her unabated silence, and Homura hears a thud as the other girl slams her fist on the counter.

"K-Kyouko-chan, I think you really should leave her alone for now," Madoka warns her gently, though her voice is faded by the time Homura reaches a corner, and once she's marching down another hall, the bustling whirl of an air conditioner overhead drowns out Kyouko's response completely.

* * *

><p><span><strong>AN:** Another chapter, yaay! *cheers* Sorry this one took awhile, school started back up for me. But we have some intense shizzles going on here, huzzah! Thank you all for reading, and thanks a bunch for the wonderful reviews! 'Till next time!


	4. Stubborn Ice Queens and Hiding Bodies

**Chapter 4****:** Stubborn Ice Queens and Hiding Bodies

They don't speak for several days after the ridiculous fire incident. Friday comes, Homura attends her stupid college class that she really doesn't like, then the weekend's upon her and she's thankfully not working on those two days. She goes about her business like usual: tidying up the house, buying groceries, doing her homework, all that _fun _stuff. It's enough time for her sparking fury to simmer down about the whole thing, but she's still fairly bitter about it all, and most certainly not ready to dish out any sort of forgiveness. She'd been banned from the concession stand for an indefinite time period, her boss was _incredibly pissed off,_ and somehow she's supposed to share the blame for being a terrible teacher or something. She's thankful he's so desperate for work, or else she and Kyouko may have both been fired on the spot over the whole stupid thing. But, well, at least it got her out of having to endure that _awful_ concession stand. When he had delivered his verdict, she'd been strangely torn between the temptation to internally beg for mercy or to get on her knees and scream, _"Oh, thank god!"_

Unfortunately, Monday comes. The dreaded Monday. Homura can understand why everyone hates it with such a burning passion. It'd been somewhat okay before, but with her having college scheduled on that day for this current semester, it'd become even worse. What had she been thinking? Apparently, according to her two months ago, a seven 'o clock class on the same day as a long theatre shift was a perfectly acceptable arrangement. She hardly sleeps the night before the dreaded doomsday, opting instead to spend her sleeping hours typing up an essay she'd been neglecting. Indeed, it's a terrible arrangement.

Homura has to rush to catch the train to the college that awful morning, having accidently passed out on the floor right after finishing her assignment and ended up waking up rather late. Much to her chagrin, she's stuck wearing her work uniform to class due to having work right after, and of course once she finally gets to the irritating institution of higher learning, those stupid kids in the back of class continue to snicker about her apparently "lame, dorky outfit" like usual. She doesn't understand how it's funny, nor will she even begin to comprehend how such a running joke doesn't get old, but she honestly couldn't care less. She turns in her essay and takes notes, and that's all that really matters. At least, that's what she's tells herself — her eye admittedly twitches when one of those obnoxious boys throws a wad of paper at her head, but she just grits her teeth, squares her shoulders, and soldiers on like she's always done. Even though she kind of wants to wring their necks. But she has to focus. Right. The professor's going on about…. something about something. Damn it. She swears they do this to her on purpose just for this effect. What bastards.

Much to her relief — and dread, actually — class finally lets out. Last semester she might have been a bit more enthused on such an occasion, but with work right after she can't muster up anything more than a sigh as she shoves her books in her bag. Normally she's a bit more careful, but today she's honestly just really, really, done and doesn't care that her notes are getting all smashed up under the textbook. Well, okay, goddamnit, it's bothering her now that she's actually thinking about it, and she has to crouch down next to her desk to rectify the arrangement and save those stupid notes she doesn't care about all that much from a wrinkly doom. Wrinkled papers just really bother her for some reason.

As Homura pulls out her now bent notebook — oh, the sight's just awful to her eyes — she feels several more wadded paper balls whack her in the skull, harder than they usually did. She twists her head to send a death glare in the direction of the lanky, smelly idiots that had thrown the projectiles, but they just grant unto her a barking sort of laugh — a harsh sound that grates upon her ears and really pisses her off for some reason — and hoist their bags over their shoulders as they trot out of the classroom with an obnoxiously pretentious, wide-legged gait. A low growl bubbles up her throat as she watches them leave, and she makes sure to bend her notebook back to a straight angle before shoving it in her bag and following their leave out the door. She tries not to think about the irritating white crease now marring the front of her admittedly really cheap, flimsy journal. How troublesome.

Homura boards the train once more, and sets off on foot for the theatre the rest of the way, keeping an eye on her watch so she doesn't drag her feet too much. It's rather hard not to, actually, for more reasons than one. A deploring sigh passes her chapped lips when the worn, unimpressive brick of the theatre building comes into view. She licks her lips — damn she should have brought chapstick or something. Blinking rapidly several times, she shakes her head at that thought. God, she's way too scatterbrained today for her liking. If she doesn't get some caffeine in her soon, she's probably going to be found draped across the theatre seats passed out again like that one time, and she might not be lucky enough to have Madoka be the one to find her again either. She sighs at the memory. Finals week. Those had been dark times indeed.

Suddenly, her movements are halted when her forehead knocks against a cold glass surface. Startled out of her reverie, Homura stumbles back a moment before grabbing onto the door handle to balance herself. She shakes her head, breathing a sigh of relief for her snail-pace walking, or she might have ended up on the floor again, and that would've been embarrassing. A moment later she hears laughter bubbling up from beyond the glassy panels. Scratch that, it's already embarrassing. Ugh.

Homura angrily wrenches the door open and stomps inside, her countenance twisted into a grumpy frown that only intensifies when she catches sight of Sayaka grinning at her with the most insufferably cheeky visage upon her features. The blue-haired girl stands behind the concession stand counter, propping her head up on her hands as she leans against it. Homura sighs heavily as she stops right in front of the counter, already guessing that she's going to make some sort of stupid quip—

"Those glass doors are pretty tricky, aren't they? Just so hard to see and all." — and there it is.

"Just shut up and hit me up with a soda," Homura gripes moodily in reply, folding her arms over her chest as she does so. Sayaka snickers and pushes herself off the counter.

"Sure thing." She pops open the refrigerator and grabs a Pepsi, then proceeds to spin around and toss it over to Homura, who deftly catches it with surprisingly good reflexes. "Honestly, you really look like you could use it."

"I feel dead inside," Homura grumbles in reply, pulling the tab back with an audible sizzle and automatically bringing the cool metal against her parched lips as she leans against the counter. Sayaka returns to rest her weight on the counter right across from Homura, nodding her head in understanding.

"Yea, normally I would be too at this time but I drank… more coffee than I honestly should have this morning so I'll probably be good to go for a while," Sayaka replies exuberantly with a lively grin.

"In other words, I can expect to find you taking a nap on the boxes in the storage room again later in the day?" Homura remarks blandly, taking a greedy swig of her soda right after the words leave her mouth. The other girl raises an eyebrow at her.

"You know, didn't Madoka find _you_ passed out on the theatre seats last seme—"

"Okay, we don't need to talk about that," Homura quickly cuts her off, a little flustered at the memory. It most certainly hadn't been one of her best moments, and she isn't keen on being reminded of it. Sayaka laughs heartily at her response, which only serves to increase her own embarrassment. She jumps to rectify the situation by a swift change in subject.

"Anyways, speaking of Madoka, isn't she supposed to be working the stand with you at this time of day?" Homura asks, eyes darting around for a few seconds before managing to settle on Sayaka's face. The taller girl just shrugs in reply, standing up straighter as she does so.

"Yea, she was a little earlier, but then she went off with Kyouko when she came in. I think I can sort of guess what they might be talking about," Sayaka answers, frowning. She looks to the side a moment later, and Homura follows her gaze to rest on the two figures in question standing a good way's down one of the halls adjoining the lobby room. Kyouko's leaning against the wall with her shoulders hunched, looking fairly troubled, while Madoka stands directly in front of her with her hands clasped behind her back and a reassuring smile gracing her lips as she tells Kyouko something Homura can't hear. The sight immediately causes a grimace to distort Homura's features, and she turns her face away from the sight with a disgruntled snort, swallowing the Pepsi she'd had in her mouth quickly. Sayaka's eyebrows curl up in sympathy and she automatically puts her hand on one of Homura's bony shoulders, causing the girl to immediately stiffen.

"Look, Homura—" she starts, but Homura quickly shrugs her hand off and pulls away from her grasp, refusing to look at her.

"I don't need your advice," Homura growls, cutting her off, and she takes one last giant swig of the Pepsi before crushing the can in her hand and tossing it into a nearby trashcan, landing a perfect shot. Sayaka stands up straight and looks a little startled at the sudden burst of emotion, but she says nothing as Homura storms away from the stand, shoulders coiled up like a snake.

The black-haired girl can't resist stealing a glance back when she's at the threshold of one of the adjoining hallways, however, and she sees Kyouko throw her arms up in the air in frustration and say something angrily to Madoka, who flinches back at the outburst. _Ugh, don't tell me she's fucking everything up again, _Homura thinks right as the fiery redhead hurriedly takes her leave into one of the auditoriums, snatching up a broom leaning against the door in one fluid motion along the way. The heavy door slams shut with a _thunk! _loud enough for even Homura to hear it. Madoka stands there staring at the steel construct for a moment like she's not really sure what to think of whatever the hell just happened, before her shoulders droop and she begins heading back to the concession stand.

Something about the exchange has Homura gritting her teeth and her hands wrapping into tight fists at her sides — just who does Kyouko think she is, pushing Madoka around like that? She looks over at Sayaka, whose attention is also similarly focused on Madoka's returning figure. Her gaze is hot and fierce, and she's gripping the counter hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

"Are you okay? What did that bitch say to you?" Sayaka quickly asks as soon as Madoka re-enters the lobby. By this point, Homura's long since abandoned her retreat and now stands as a mere spectator to the spectacle, her hand gripping the corner of the hall's wall as she looks behind her. Madoka shakes her head hurriedly when she reaches the concession stand counter, placing her delicate hands gently on Sayaka's shoulders.

"I'm fine," the diminutive girl reassures her, smiling to dissuade the concerned frown tugging at the corners of Sayaka's lips. "Really, I am," she adds when Sayaka's face hardly seems to change.

"But—"

"I just pushed her buttons on accident, I think…? She didn't really mean anything by it, so I'm not hurt or anything," Madoka cuts in before Sayaka can finish her sentence. Her hands slide down the blue-haired girl's arms to gently pry her fingers off the counter, her touch lingering a second longer than necessary. "It's okay, really."

"Alright, alright," Sayaka sighs in defeat, raising her hands in surrender. "But I swear, next time she does that, she's going to pay, you hear me?"

"Oh, don't do that, Sayaka-chan!" Madoka pouts. "I think she's nice! I mean, sure, she kind of flies off her ladle a lot… er, is that how you say it? But I don't think she's a bad person or anything."

"Okay, but consider this: you're a terrible judge of character, Madoka."

"W-What? No, I'm not! You're the one who's always— oh, hey Homura-chan!" Madoka cuts herself off and blinks rapidly a few times when she _finally_ takes notice of Homura standing at the edge of the hall. "S-Sorry, I didn't see you there! What's up?" she adds nervously, looking embarrassed that the black-haired girl had seen her bickering with Sayaka. Not that Homura really cares; she's seen them disagree on things before, after all. But she's really not in the mood for any more conversation today, and hearing talk of Kyouko of all people isn't helping her mood at all.

"Nothing. I was just taking my leave," she replies brusquely to Madoka's inquiry, and turns away before the other girl can say anything in return, hurrying down the hall at a brisk, snappy pace so she won't be engaged any further.

"Uh, well, okay then, Homura-chan…" she hears Madoka reply awkwardly.

"What were you about to say to me, Madoka?" Sayaka huffs immediately after.

"W-What? Uh, nothing!" Homura can practically hear the jump in her voice. "Let's just get back to work."

"Jeez, that'd be a great idea if we ever had any goddamn custo…" Sayaka's voice fades out and Homura doesn't catch the rest of her sentence as she rounds the corner of the hall on her way to the broom closet, but she really doesn't care much for their conversation anyhow.

Moments later, Homura reaches her destination — miraculously not with her skull. Maybe today would be a halfway decent day if that's happening. It would be indicative that she isn't deliriously sleep-deprived quite yet. Pepsi could do wonders. Though, another can or two might've helped a lot. _Oh well. It'll have to do,_ she thinks as she pries the closet open and drags out a trashcan and other cleaning supplies. She's more of a coffee and tea person anyways. Swinging the broom atop her shoulder, she turns around to start her day of usher duty. _At least it isn't the concession stand.  
><em>

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><p>The day drags on fairly dully with Homura spending most of it cleaning up people's disgusting messes and the likes. Sayaka and Madoka continue to man the nefarious food stand, actually getting some sort of business when the afternoon sun starts to pour into the worn glass doors of the theatre entrance, and Kyouko…. well, Homura's not sure what the redhead's been up to; she most certainly hasn't seen her crossing the lobby or the halls throughout the day. Which is a bit odd, considering the rather minuscule size of the theatre, but Homura wouldn't be surprised if it's an intentional effort on the other girl's part. She didn't really want to see her either anyways.<p>

When the clock's hands are hovering around four o'clock in the afternoon, Homura drags her trashcan into Auditorium Three — Sayaka had suggested naming the auditoriums something a little more creative than numbers, but everyone else thought it was a stupid idea, herself included. She doesn't really care what it's called, honestly, but she'd feel a bit ridiculous saying some sort of obnoxiously snazzy name, the likes of which Sayaka would definitely come up with. But she's getting a little off topic. Not that there's much of a topic to begin with, considering how boring cleaning usually ends up being. Except for when she'd done it with Kyouko, that hadn't been so bori— Homura immediately shakes her head, roughly dispelling that train of thought. Even if the girl does make cleaning interesting, she still makes popcorn machines _explode_ badly enough to make any pyromaniac proud. What a terrifying force to be reckoned with.

There's a sudden _BOOM!_ right as that thought crosses her mind, and she actually jumps in the air a little in fright, hair standing up on the back of her neck as she assumes the worst, but a single glance up tells her that it's just the movie playing on screen, and she automatically relaxes. Shifting her eyes warily, she comes to the conclusion that none of the auditorium's denizens had noticed her little spaz attack, much to her relief. Sighing, Homura makes her way up the aisle to the main chamber of the room, wherein she proceeds to drag her cleaning supplies up to the back to wait out the end of the movie. She's a little early this time, but there's really not much left to clean at this point in the day after her meticulous efforts had been focused on such a task for the entirety of her shift thus far.

Homura leans against the back wall, crossing her arms over her chest as she passively watches the movie play on screen. Explosions, gun slinging cowboys — oh, it's some sort of typical western. Definitely not her sort of thing. She yawns a few minutes into the senseless action, and vaguely recalls that she's supposed to check for tickets and cameras whenever she scopes in like this, but none of the employees ever bother going that far, including herself. It's not like they're some sort of hit theatre anyhow, and she honestly couldn't care less. At the thought though, her eyes lazily dart across the rows to find no glowing screens to speak of anyways. Perhaps everyone else finds the motion picture just as unremarkable as her.

Her assessment proves to be true some fifteen minutes later, much to what would soon be her disdain. She's hoisting her broom over her shoulder in preparation for her grand garbage annihilation mission as everyone files out of the auditorium when one of them breaks off from the crowd to approach her. It's fairly unusual for anyone to pay her much mind in this type of setting, so the man's approach doesn't fail to catch her full attention. She turns to regard him with a wary look as he waddles up the aisle with a heavy, lumbering gait, his torn, ragged boots clunking on the rug like the steps of some sort of dinosaur — which isn't a very reassuring comparison. His appearance reminds Homura of some kind of fat little toad. He's oddly sweaty, reeks like he hasn't taken a shower in a week — the fact that she can clearly smell it all the way from her makes her feel sorry for whoever sat near him — and his stained clothes hardly seem to fit him, exposing vast rolls of skin that Homura finds a little unnerving. His buggy, beady eyes stay intensely trained on her the whole time, and Homura shifts uncomfortably as he draws near. She's getting some pretty bad vibes already, and it isn't because of his long greasy hair — god, does he know what shampoo is?

"Excuse me ma'am," the man intones when he's about five feet away from her. His voice is gruff and congested like some old bear with the flu, with a notable drunken slur to it that doesn't escape Homura's notice. _Great, a drunk_, she thinks as she adjusts her grip on the broom hoisted on her shoulder, arm tense like she's ready to use it.

"Yes? Do you need something?" she replies politely, voice strained from the effort it takes not to grimace when she gets a strong whiff of liquor from his breath.

"Yeshhma'am. This a'movie right here fucking ss-ssucked! D'ya think a pretty lil' lady ss-suuch as yerself might could get me a refund? 'Tis only fair fer showing that fuckin' bullshit on s-ssscreen," he slurs out thickly, swaying slightly in place like he's about to tip over. His eyes bulge out of his face grotesquely as he speaks, spittle flying from his thick red lips and barely missing Homura's own. Her eye twitches as she leans to the side slightly to dodge a stray air-borne glob of DNA, but she otherwise manages to maintain a neutral expression somehow. Asides from her eyes darkening, of course. She can't really help a bit of malice slipping through. Her hand tightens around the wooden handle of the broom. _Don't beat the customers upside the head with a broom, Homura. You don't want to get fired,_ a voice in her head warns. She sighs quietly.

"I'm sorry, sir, but our establishment offers no refunds for movies. We can't help that your enjoyment of our entertainment was more than lackluster," she replies smoothly, voice becoming increasingly chilly. Sure, judging from the last fifteen minutes, the movie _is_ pretty bad admittedly, but she doesn't think it worth making a fuss over by any means.

"Ye call that ss-shit entertainment?" he barks out, more spittle flying from his lips. His burly, beak-like nose scrunches up in anger, and Homura takes an involuntary step back. His eyes dart down to her feet and then rake back up her body to her face, and Homura automatically regrets the move.

"Well, I'm just using the technical definition for that brand of media—"

"I'll tell ye what, lil' lady, why don't I _persuade_ ya otherwise?" he cuts her off with a leer, voice deepening in a grossly husky way as he steps closer, effectively trapping her against the wall. Homura's entire passive look automatically drops into a snarl the moment the words (and the spit) leave his lips, and she foregoes all thoughts of civility and not-getting-fired-for-murdering-the-customers as she lifts the broom threateningly.

"Okay, _no._ You don't get to do that," she growls firmly as she jerks her arms back in preparation to crack the broom across the man's thick ugly skull.

Just as she's about to deliver doom to this man's doorstep, however, a familiar pair of burly, strong hands accompanied by similarly strong arms have the bravery to wrap around the man's large middle and yank him backwards. He yelps in shock as his feet leave the ground, and the instigator of his demise chucks him backwards, sending him rolling down the aisle like a wayward tire on a bumpy road. He crashes into a wall soon after though, where he lays still, presumably unconscious. Homura blinks in shock a few times at the sudden development, lowering her arms from their battle position as her eyes rest on her 'savior'. Kyouko stands before her, shirt looking a little tousled from her admittedly rather impressive display of true weightlifting. There's a visible look of concern on her face as the redhead steps closer, assessing her appearance with worry.

"Hey, are you okay?" Kyouko asks. "I didn't come too late, did I?"

Homura sighs heavily upon the sight of her former work partner, and she jabs the butt of her broom into her chest to push her a few steps backwards.

"I'm fine," she huffs, lowering her would-be weapon to the floor after the action is complete. "Don't think that just because you 'saved' me I'll forgive you. I didn't even need your help to begin with."

"What? That's not even why I did it, you dumbass. And how was I supposed to know that?" Kyouko replies indignantly, obviously offended. She balls her hands up into fists for a moment before roughly shoving them into her pockets. Homura merely rolls her eyes, not really caring if the redhead's offended or not.

"Well, you've done it now, so I guess your job is done here, right? Why are you even here?" she grumbles, leaning against the wall and refusing to look the redhead in the eye lest she become too angry about the last time they'd interacted.

"I was just going to clean up this auditorium. I didn't expect you to be here," the taller girl replies evenly, still looking more than a little miffed. Homura raises her eyebrows at that, and finally looks at her — or more accurately, looks behind her — only to find no cleaning supplies to speak of. Kyouko's hands are bare of any brooms or dustpans, and the only trashcan in the area is the one she'd dragged in herself. Something about that fact really irks her.

"Really now?" she hisses, deciding to call her out on it. "Then where's your usher duty supplies?" Kyouko's eyes widen at her accusing tone, and she looks behind her only to confirm that yes, she hadn't even bothered to bring any.

"I…" she trails off, seemingly at a loss for words.

"You're a terrible liar," Homura sighs, glaring at her. "What do you want?"

Kyouko stares at her for a few long moments, looking both like she's trying to gather her thoughts while also being at a loss for words. A minute ticks uncomfortably by, and Homura frowns, feeling awkward at the sudden lapse in conversation. She's about to repeat her question when Kyouko finally says something.

"Look…" she starts, crossing her arms in a way that makes her seem slightly vulnerable as she looks off to the side. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry about last time, okay? I just kind of chickened out about saying so just now because you still seem pretty pissed off, and that's not exactly encouraging." She gives a little awkward chuckle at the end there, but it seems forced. Homura raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything in case the redhead wants to continue. Kyouko seems to be struggling with her words, like as if apologies are difficult for her. There's another brief lapse in speech before Kyouko seems to catch onto her train of thought again.

"But, uh…. anyways," she finally continues, "I, well, I agree that I was a fucking idiot, as you so eloquently put it last time. I probably should've mentioned I had no idea what I was doing, but I didn't want to seem stupid or anything. But I guess I ended up making myself look even more stupid. Which isn't what I was going for, trust me." She cracks a small smile at that, finally looking Homura in the eye, but it drops quickly when she sees Homura's cold, neutral expression still firmly fixed in place. The redhead reaches a hand behind her head to awkwardly rub her neck, blinking a few times as she looks away.

"So… yea. I'm sorry about that whole thing. And sorry for kind of freezing up there and kind of making you do all the work…"

"What was that even about, anyways?" Homura cuts in, raising an eyebrow. She'd been wondering about the bizarre reaction for a while. Kyouko jumps a little when Homura suddenly speaks, dropping her arm back to her side in surprise and maybe a little fear. It's brief, though, since she regains her momentum a moment later.

"I… have bad experiences with fire, so to speak," she responds vaguely. But then she shakes her head. "But that's not really the point I'm trying to make. Just, okay. I know I screwed up, but I promise I'll actually listen to you next time. If you'll let there be a next time," she finishes. Surprisingly enough, her face is flushed slightly in embarrassment and maybe even a bit of shame. Kyouko's hands clasp behind her back, and she looks to the floor. Homura actually finds herself feeling a little sorry for her. But not sorry enough. It's her turn to speak, and she knows her next words are going to hurt, but it's for the best.

"Kyouko," she begins, catching the redhead's attention. Kyouko's head lifts up to look at her, and now Homura's the one finding it a bit difficult to look her straight in the eye. "Okay, you're pretty weird, and I think you're kind of funny, but the fact still stands that you almost cost me my job. And I really need this job, if you didn't know. If I didn't, there'd be no way in hell I'd be working here. And we don't exactly get along all that great anyhow. I personally think it would be better if we didn't work together anymore. You should direct your questions to Madoka, or Sayaka — er, actually, maybe not Sayaka; no offense but she doesn't exactly seem to like you all that much, so maybe just Madoka. I'm sure you'd get along a lot better with her than you would with me."

Homura taps the fingers of her hand not holding the broom against her thigh as she speaks, knowing that what she's saying isn't exactly nice, but she tells herself again it's for the best. She doesn't want to be held responsible for the crazy enigma standing in front of her in any way, especially not with her job on the line. The boss may be incredibly short-handed, and he may value her as an employee already, but she's sure if she pisses him off enough he might just find it better if she isn't around anymore, and then where would she work?

"Oh…." Kyouko mutters after a brief silence, snapping Homura out of her thoughts and her focus back to her. The redhead tries to maintain a neutral expression, but a dejected look still slips past the cracks in her features. Homura can feel the guilt setting in.

"Hey, it's not that I hate you or anything…" she adds uselessly in an attempt to dissuade that crestfallen expression, but her words only seem to add insult to injury considering the way the other girl winces when they reach her ears. Kyouko tries to cover it up though by shaking her head, eyebrows scrunching together as she forces a smile on her face.

"Oh, no, it's fine. I understand. I guess I'll catch you around then," she replies, but there's an unmistakable hint of heaviness to her voice. Before Homura can say anything though, Kyouko turns around and takes her leave, making her way down the aisle with a sag to her broad shoulders. It's when she's halfway down that Homura's eyes catch sight of the downed man a ways down the aisle.

"Wait! What are we going to do about him?" she calls after the other girl, painfully aware of how awkwardly out of place her inquiry is after what they'd just been talking about. Kyouko pauses, and looks down at the greasy creep laying passed out on the floor with a surprised look on her face, like as if she'd completely forgotten about him.

"Oh, uh. I guess I'll just throw him outside or something," Kyouko replies lamely, looking just about as awkward as her.

"Won't that raise questions?" Homura asks, raising an eyebrow. Kyouko shrugs.

"Er, there's a side exit on this hall, isn't there? I'll just toss him in the alley. Don't worry, I've done this before."

"Uh, what?" Homura blinks. Did she just say what she thinks she just said? Kyouko jumps, confirming that yes, she had just said what she thinks she just said.

"Nothing! We're not working together anymore anyways," she replies, a hint of bitterness poisoning her tone. "So don't worry about it." Kyouko hoists the man up over her shoulder, and Homura's amazed she can even lift the bowling ball of a creature. The redhead makes her exit, and Homura watches her retreating back with mixed feelings until Kyouko turns the corner into the little hall leading to the door, her figure disappearing altogether save for those heavy footsteps. There's the creak of the door being cracked open, and the slam of it being shut reverberates throughout the large room.

Homura's alone now.

She sighs heavily, leaning against the wall and letting the broom clatter to the floor. The sound grates upon her ears. She tilts her head back against the wall to look up at the ceiling, wondering if she made the right choice. After Kyouko's sincere apology, she'd be lying if she says she's still angry. But it doesn't change the fact the insufferable girl's still a complete blockhead. It's weird — a few days ago she'd have jumped at the chance to jump ship from the other girl's very rocky boat of questionable sanity. But now… she's not so sure. Homura shakes her head. Ugh, what is she even thinking? Despite Kyouko's words, the other girl still strikes her as a stubborn person, and she just has a feeling tangling with her would only cause her a heap of trouble. And Homura would think she'd rather avoid heaps of trouble. Right?

Her thoughts are interrupted when she hears a commotion out in the hall. She stands up a little straighter at the sound of loud voices.

"Kyouko? What the _hell_ are you doing with a _body?"_

"Look, Blueberry, it's not what it looks like—"

"My name is Sayaka, you idiot!"

"Okay, Sayaka, just let me through—"

"God, I knew you were trouble. Put that man down this instant!"

"You're not the boss of me! And you don't even know the situation!"

Homura hears the sound of heavy footsteps thudding down the hall at a rapid pace.

"What the—? Hey! Kyouko! Get back here!"

"Never! Just let me dump this guy outside and I swear I'll explain—"

"You will do no such thing!" Sayaka's voice is quickly followed by the speedy thrum of what Homura presumes to be her footsteps, and their voices fade until Homura can't hear them anymore. There's a part of her that's amused by the exchange, but she's still weighed down with the thoughts of earlier. Sighing, she bends down to pick up her broom. She's got an entire auditorium to clean, and she isn't exactly sure when the next showing is.

It's when she's already halfway through the first row, though, that it strikes her that this is the same auditorium she'd cleaned up with Kyouko.

Homura sighs again.

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><p><strong><span>AN:** Huzzah, another chapter! Sorry for the wait. But hey, it's longer than usual, if that makes up for it! ^^ I feel like I just wrote a break-up scene, and they aren't even friends yet! Somebody needs to bring our precious babies back together! Oh right, that person would be me. It was angrier and crueler in my head, but I guess Homura's really just a softie beneath all that ice. I'm thinking of introducing Kyouko's POV sometime around somehow, what do you guys think of that? So far we've only gotten what Homura sees, and there's plenty of things hiding on Kyouko's side of the equation I'd imagine. *cough* _and I might've snuck a little MadoSaya in here, by the way..._ *cough* But, enough of my rambling. As always, thanks for reading, and thanks for the reviews!


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